Page 81 of Verdict

Ava gave me a tight nod. "Right."

"If that's okay?" I added, hating how unsure I suddenly sounded.

She forced a smile and turned toward the living room. “Of course.” She didn’t look back to see if I was following.

I stood there for half a second longer, Ellie warm and solid in my arms. I had driven all the way here to tell her she was who I wanted, who I chose.

And instead, I hid behind our daughter.

I was such a fucking coward.

Chapter 23

Ava

It was as if my mind had conjured him.

He stood in my parents’ foyer, his hair perfectly tussled, amber eyes locked on mine. His hands were shoved deep into his pockets, shoulders tight. He looked nervous. He looked like he had something to say.

But he didn’t.

My heart leapt before I could stop it. Desperate and hopeful. Maybe he was here for me. Maybe—just maybe—it was finally my turn.

But it wasn’t.

Cohen was here for Ellie. Because of course he was.

The realization burned hotter than it should have. Heat climbed up my neck and settled in my cheeks. I forced my face into something neutral and turned toward the living room before anyone could see it—the embarrassment, the disappointment.

I felt so unbelievably stupid.

Once we stepped inside, the noise dipped for a split second as everyone registered the unexpected arrival.

With Ellie balanced against one hip, Cohen lifted his free hand in a wave. “Hey, everyone. Happy Thanksgiving.”

My mom was on him instantly, pulling him into a hug. “Cohen! What a wonderful surprise!”

He laughed softly, flashing that easy smile that always disarmed everyone, and made his way around the room to greet the rest of the family.

And there were a lot of them.

The entire James clan. The Kings. Dean’s family. Laughter bouncing off the walls. Plates clinking in the kitchen. The guys all arguing about football.

Cohen fit right in. Because of course he did.

And I stood there, watching him hold our daughter, watching him be welcomed like he was always supposed to be here. And trying to swallow the quiet ache that reminded me—He’d chosen to be here. Just not for me.

I stood there watching him hold our daughter. Watching my father clap him on the back. Watching my brothers treat him like one of their own.

And this was all for our daughter.

It wasn’t for me.

We were all seated around my parents' large farm table, enjoying my mom's incredible pie, when Walker began to lightly chime his fork against his beer bottle as he stood.

Everyone paused their respective conversations and gave him their full attention. Walker glanced down at Farrah with pure adoration. "We finally decided on a name for the next Aviator's Hall of Fame pitcher—" he started.

Farrah rolled her eyes but couldn't hide her smile. Several snorts and groans echoed around the table.